So after spending valuable time and money, the fourth doctor in the saga of "Veronica's swallowing problem" determined that I will need to have more studies conducted. Phew! For a second I thought someone was going to diagnose me with something.
But when the doctor is young and tall, and "Just got off the plane this morning after biking through Patagonia", it's easy to forget that you may possibly have Eosinophilic Esophagitis, that pesky allergy of the esophagus. Which just goes to show, good looking people can get away with murder. Note to hospitals.
In any event, both the good doctor and I were in agreement that my problem is more likely psychological than physiological, but as he said, let's do a biopsy just to be certain.
So let's! Let's put little Veronica under sedation (the right way). And let's stick a lighted instrument down her throat and scrape out little chunks of her esophagus.
I'll let you all know how that goes.
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1 comment:
What was the outcome? Having the same bloody experience pinballing around the doctors. Like you, I'm otherwise in outstanding shape so a real pisser.
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